Love Unforgettable: Love in San Soloman - Book Three

by Wells, Denise

  Between his scrubs and my yoga pants there is nothing between us to hide our arousal, to keep his length from my core. I continue to shamelessly rub myself against him, craving that friction that will cure my itch, that will take away my sorrows and make me feel whole again. I know that we shouldn’t be doing this, but I don’t care. I need him back. I want him back.

  He runs his hand down my back and into my pants, his fingers sinking deep inside me from behind, one somehow finding my clit as well.

  “Oh my God, Trevor.”

  “So wet, Lexie. God you feel so good. So tight.”

  I run my lips along his neck and grind down on his hand. He’s all I feel. His hands, his body, his breath, his mouth. It’s like his fingers were made to fuck me and make me come. I need to feel more of him. I run my hands down his sides to his hips, scraping my fingers just inside the waistband, his skin hot against mine.

  “More, Trevor. I need more.” I work my hand between us and grip him through his scrubs, his length hard and hot.

  “Fuck, fuck, fuck, Lexie, I’m going to come in my pants if you don’t let go. God, I’ve missed you. I love you so much. Oh, fuck,” he growls. His fingers curve inside me and find that magic spot, I’m going to come. Fast. And I don’t want to do it alone.

  “Trevor, God.” I tighten my grip on his cock, knowing I must be chafing him with the material, but not caring.

  “Come for me, Lex. Come all over my fingers, baby.”

  His command sends me right over the edge and I cry out into his shoulder as waves of ecstasy course through me. My orgasm seems to last forever, cascading through me again and again. Trevor’s movements become jerky as he fucks my hand through his clothes. His breath coming faster and shorter. He bites down on my neck hard, an epic growl tearing from his throat as he releases into his pants.

  My body slumps spent and tired. I fall back slightly on the exam table, both of us breathing heavily as we recover.

  “I’m like a fucking teenager, coming in my pants,” he says. I laugh at him. Feeling giddy.

  Trevor reaches his hands up and cradles my face between them, gently stroking my cheekbones with his thumbs.

  “So beautiful,” he whispers. “So, fucking beautiful.” He looks at me with wonderment as though he can’t believe I’m here. “We belong together, Lexie. We fit. It’s always been me and you. I need you, Lexie, with me, beside me.”

  And for just a moment that sounds perfect. Just him and me against the world, the way it used to be. Until I remember we’ve already been here before.

  “What happened, Trevor?”

  He looks at me questioningly.

  “Before. When you left. What happened? Why did you go?”

  He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. “That’s a bigger question than you realize, Lex.”

  “Okay.” I wait for him to continue.

  “I should change my pants,” he says.

  “Trevor, we’re right in the middle of a conversation.”

  “I know, and I want to tell you what happened, but not here, not like this.”

  “Oh, okay. We can practically fuck here, but we can’t have a conversation?”

  “I’m sorry,” he says. “You’re right. I’m . . . I was—”

  There’s a sharp knock on the door, Trevor quickly steps behind me, I’m sure to hide the wet spot on the front of his pants.

  “Doctor Vaughn?” Anna opens the door and pokes her head in. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but we have an emergency that needs your attention.”

  Trevor buttons his lab coat to hide his pants and steps around me. “Lex, can I call you later?” He puts his hand on my arm to get my attention. I nod in response. “Don’t worry,” he says. “Sasha is going to be fine. Sorry about lunch.” And with that he’s out the door.

  I wait in the room for a minute to collect my thoughts. I can’t believe we just did that. But it was so damn hot. If I’m not careful, I’ll be back in the thick of things with Trevor before I know it.

  Don’t get sucked in, Lexie.

  I can’t help myself.

  Okay, TRY not to get sucked in.

  Got it. I will try.

  My mind made up, I go out to reception, ask her to send me the bill, get in my car and head for home. I still have a few hours before picking up Mavis, so maybe I can get some more work done in the office or something.

  Chapter 7

  Cole

  Pappy had a 175,000 acre ranch in north Texas, been in his family for years. When the kids were grown and out of college, my mother included, he parceled the ranch. This would have been some twenty-five years ago now. Divided 90,000 acres between his three kids and sold the other 85,000 acres. Which bought him just over 3,500 acres in the Central Coast with a hefty chunk of change left over. Crazy how that works. He sold right before the decline in ag-land values in the 1980’s and bought right after. Pappy was either crazy lucky or brilliant. We were never sure which.

  Pappy and Babs didn’t have to keep working, but they chose to anyway. Pappy liked to stay busy, so he and Babs started the small (by Texas standards) ranch in San Soloman; dabbled in cattle, horses, some farming, and such until Pappy passed last year. Babs tried to keep running things with the staff, but she says she’s tired and wants to spend more time playing with her friends. And that right there is something she deserves more than anyone I know.

  Earl is leading me around the ranch on ATV’s. The operation that Pappy and Earl set up is impressive in terms of sustainability and water conservation. Some of the things even being more modern than what we use in Texas for an operation ten times this size. Course, we were lucky in that the part of northern Texas where I’m from isn’t in a drought like much of the remainder of the state. There are parts of Texas, and California too I’m sure, where it’s so dry, the trees are bribing dogs to come do their business.

  So, learning about water conservation and water repurposing is downright interesting. Earl does a real good job of running things with his staff. Past that though, he’s not much of a talker, and since I don’t have many questions for him, our conversation is sparse. I think I like the quiet, it’s a nice change from the constant buzz and hub-bub back home. For a while at least. I could never survive for long in total quiet. I like noise and chaos and crowds.

  The entire property is just as pretty as a picture. A lot of money was put into sustainable landscaping and agriculture. Everywhere I look, Earl is pointing out another native tree or plant. I like that it makes the bulk of the land look like a park or some sort of sanctuary. Naturally, the pastures are all grass, but Pappy included assorted shade trees scattered in groups throughout to give the livestock added protection from the sun.

  A man-made lake, about one hundred acres in size, lies in the middle of the cow pasture, separating it in part from the main horse corral. Recycled potable water, according to Earl, for the cattle on one side and the horses on the other. Not their only water source, but one they seem to favor. In addition, a thousand acres or so are devoted to almonds. And another five hundred acres for table grapes. Pappy loved to diversify.

  “We got a whole separate system that repurposes the waste water for irrigation purposes, so our new water usage is greatly minimized, which helps get us tax exemptions from the state,” Early says.

  “I like exemptions,” I smile.

  We finish our tour at the personal vegetable garden, which supplies all the greens for the ranch. It’s got to be at least two acres. Assorted fruit, citrus trees, and berry bushes line the outside perimeter of the garden, making it like your own outdoor market for produce of all kinds. I spend a few minutes walking the garden to familiarize myself with everything we have immediate availability to. Earl tells me about the portable greenhouse to cover the garden in the winter, so the cold doesn’t destroy it, and so the chef has access year-round.

  Apparently, Pappy had hired the full-time chef a while back, but mostly out of necessity. One, so that Babs wouldn’t have to work so hard on a daily
basis and with entertaining. And two, because some of the staff live on site, and therefore work long hours, and he wanted to provide for them. Namely Earl and his family, another ranch hand and his partner, and the chef and her family. But there are others who come in every day, plus seasonal migrant workers, and Pappy liked to make sure they were all taken care of. A tradition I like and plan to stick to. If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.

  Feeling quite accomplished for the day, I decide to head back to the house to clean up before dinner with Mavis. Which is when my phone alarm goes off, alerting me that it’s time to leave for dinner if I plan to be punctual.

  Well, shit.

  Chapter 8

  Lexie

  Once I get back to the ranch, I see that Daniel, my vineyard manager, has not only finished checking the vines, but has also repaired the broken trellising and run a perimeter check on the fencing around the property.

  “No breach,” he says in response to my question about fencing.

  “So, no way in at all?” I ask.

  “No. It’s weird, Lex. I think the horse scaled the fence.”

  “Aren’t those fences built to keep horses in or out or something? You think a horse scaled that fence?”

  “I do. Horses jump,” he says.

  “I mean, I don’t know much, or really anything, about horses, but is that possible?”

  “Anything is possible,” he says with a smirk. “Horse came in from the northeast end, where those pastures are. The grass is trampled and cut.”

  I like Daniel, he was a good hire. He’s smart, he knows his way around the vines like a pro and he’s handy with a hammer. I found him through an ex-convict rehabilitation program that Kat ran a while back. He’s been with me for over three years and has proven to be invaluable. It’s taken some time to train his palette where the actual wine is concerned, but he grows the hell out of the grapes. He’s as good with the vines as I am, if not better.

  “I trimmed back the damaged plants, they’ll be fine,” he continues, pulling his leather cowboy hat off to wipe the sweat from his brow with his forearm. He reminds me a little bit of Indiana Jones when he does that. Especially when his face is shadowed with day old whiskers and his brown eyes are squinting in the sun. “How’s Sasha? You okay?”

  “The horse got her good. Concussion, messed up knee, cracked rib. They say she’ll come out of it okay, but I always worry, you know? She’s getting up there in age.” I sigh. “Anyway, I’ve got dinner with Mavis in a bit, so I’m gonna go get cleaned up. You should go get some rest. You did a lot today.”

  He nods and heads off in the general direction of the bunkhouse, where he lives. It’s convenient having him on site, especially since he rarely takes time off. Not a lot of friends, no special someone to speak of.

  Ha, just like me.

  I keep wanting to set him up with someone, but most women freak out when they hear he was in jail. It was for breaking and entering and robbery. He was young and dumb. He learned his lesson though.

  I watch him as he walks away.

  “Hey, Daniel,” I call out. He stops and tilts his head back toward me. “Have a nice night!” He raises his hat in response and keeps walking.

  One of these days, you’ll break through that rough exterior of his, Lexie. One of these days.

  I make a mental note to try and figure out where the horse from today came from. And another note to rip said horse’s owner a new one for messing with my vines and hurting my dog. I head back to the main house, check my email, and do some paperwork before getting ready for dinner with Mavis. I have a message from her saying that she is having a friend meet us for dinner. I think it’s sweet when she does that.

  My phone buzzes with a call, it’s Kat.

  “Hey, beautiful girl, what’s shakin’?” I ask.

  “Brad’s on call, and Remi is still at the hospital with Bauer. Wanna come hot tub with me?”

  “Wow, as tempting as it is, being your third choice and all . . .”

  “I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant . . . well, fuck, that is how it sounded, huh? Sorry.”

  “No problem.”

  “In my defense, you don’t usually hot tub with me, you know.”

  “True. And I would but I’ve got dinner with Mavis. You want to come with us? She’s bringing a friend, might be fun.”

  “Negative. But thanks. Call me after, if you’re in the mood and I’m still awake, we’ll hot tub then,” she says.

  “You got it!”

  “Hasta luego,” Kat says. She hangs up before I can say anything else. She’s been taking different language lessons lately, but she doesn’t really finish any of them. She just learns a few new words or catch phrases and then moves on. For a while it was French, then Mandarin, and now I’m guessing Spanish.

  With a little more than an hour before dinner with Mavis, I head up to my room to shower and get ready. Which, per her request, requires fancier attire tonight whether the venue does or not.

  I wish I could say I have my own sense of style, like both Kat and Remi do, but since I spend most of my time in jeans and t-shirts, I tend to stick to jeans as my go-to mainstay in attire. You’d think that since I spend all my time in jeans, I’d want to wear a dress every other chance I got. I really don’t, though. Since I’m so short, I think skirts and dresses tend to dwarf me, unless it’s a mini and I’m in heels. I also think that I can make myself appear taller in jeans. Or else it just feels that way.

  Regardless, I can put together a slammin’ outfit based on jeans and heels, but if I wear a dress, the style usually depends on whomever I happened to go shopping with and what they liked on me. Therefore, my non-jeans outfits range from Kat’s Boho Chic to Remi’s Siren Call.

  Tonight, my dress is a little more Remi than Kat. A pale green halter style A-line that is tight on the top and loose from the waist down. It reminds me of Marilyn Monroe, you know, if she had an A-cup and no hips to speak of, but it makes me look curvy and when I pair it with nude stilettos, like I am now, I feel downright sexy. Which is saying a lot for someone typically covered in pet hair and wine stains. I use one of those bun-cheater-donut-looking things to put my hair up and pull a few tendrils down the side of my face. Throw on some mascara and lip gloss, and I am good to go.

  I take my car when I pick up Mavis, instead of my Jeep, mostly because it’s the one I keep clean and it doesn’t have any dog hair in it. Well, not much anyway. And it’s easier for her to get into. Not surprisingly, she’s outside her condo building waiting when I pull up, and doesn’t hesitate to get in the car, almost before I’ve come to a complete stop. She gives me the visual once over while doing so.

  “Ah, bubala, you look nice. So pretty. I approve,” she says as she settles in and buckles her seatbelt.

  “Thank you, bubbe. Where is your friend? Is she not coming?”

  “Meeting us there,” she says, with a wave of her hand.

  “Finnegan’s Wake?” I ask. She nods. It’s her favorite place to eat. An ocean front seafood restaurant whose name is a play on the book title, only with wake referring to the water and not a funeral. Mavis is a fan of classic literature, so I also wonder if the name plays into her fondness of the food.

  We get to the restaurant in a short amount of time. I valet park, then wait while the attendant helps Mavis out of the car. She’s not as frail as she pretends to be, she just likes the attention of the young men.

  Chapter 9

  Cole

  I take a minute to brush the dust off my jeans before I head into the restaurant. After I toured everything today with Earl, I didn’t end up with time to shower before heading to dinner. Looking down, I realize I could’ve at least changed my jeans. A quick sniff of my pits, has me grabbing deodorant from the center console and rolling more on. A brush of my fingers through my hair, and I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.

  The restaurant is light and airy, so it doesn’t take long for my eyes to adjust to the interior once inside. I see Mavis sitting with
a girl I’m assuming is her granddaughter at a table near the windows. The view is amazing, all crystal blue water as far as the eye can see. I let the hostess know that I see the party I’m meeting and head toward them.

  My concern is that this dinner is a set up. When I spoke with Babs a little bit ago, she let it slip that Mavis would be bringing her granddaughter tonight, which strikes me as odd because I don’t remember a granddaughter from when I was younger and would spend summers with Pappy and Babs.

  In fact, if I’m not mistaken, the Strassbergs had one son who died in a car accident just after college with no wife and no kids. Though, knowing Babs, if this girl is some scamming imposter, she and Mavis would have put a stop to it a while ago. Not much scares me more than my very shrewd Babs and her equally intelligent “bestie.”

  Chapter 10

  Lexie

  The hostess greets Mavis and me by name, and seats us quickly. Not only do we have our weekly dinners here more than anywhere else, but Mavis also attends a weekly luncheon here with her bridge club. I turn to the hostess before sitting, “She has a friend who will be joining us soon. Can you show her to the table once she arrives?”

  “Him,” Mavis interjects. I look at her, more than surprised.

  “Do not look that way, bubala. Such shame. I can have gentlemen friends. Oy.”

  “My apologies, bubbe,” I laugh. “I just assumed it would be one of your girlfriends. Of course, you can have friends who are male.”

  “Hmmph,” she responds, with a toss of her head.

  The server comes to take our drink order, I go with a competitor’s Sauvignon Blanc, and Mavis with a dry martini. She brings them back in record time. I take a small sip, pleased with my choice, I go back in for a larger taste.